


Promises

by ReddieSetAndGo



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Yes both of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 00:19:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14092902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReddieSetAndGo/pseuds/ReddieSetAndGo
Summary: Richie has been careful to keep as much distance as he can from his abusive parents, but today, the same day he picks up a promise to Eddie, his father finds him. But some promises can't be broken. Even when someone else is trying to break them.





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Child Abuse (brief, at the end)
> 
> This is a fic I wrote for @letterstothelosers Creativity Contest on Tumblr. In their AU, Richie works at the local movie theatre and lives on Mike’s farm with Eddie after they both left their abusive homes behind. They are juniors in High School.

Beverly felt sick. She needed to call Eddie, Ben, one of them. But her hands. Her fucking hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

She was standing across from the final theatre at the Aladdin, all the way at the end of the hall. The one where they play the movies no one wants to see anymore, where it’s silent and deserted. That’s why Richie had taken Bev there. He had wanted to talk with her, he’d had something to tell her about Eddie. And now she was standing there in the dimly lit hallway alone, where Richie had stood moments ago. She was still gazing where the door had closed, she could still hear Richie warning “Don’t, Bev!”, and she could still smell the lingering sweet perfume of alcohol.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and spun around, startling the small girl who had a look of concern on her face. Beverly recognized her as one of Richie’s coworkers.

“Are you okay?” she asked. She looked behind Beverly, to the door that was already closed back up. “Where’s Richie?”

Beverly opened her mouth to scream, to tell her what she had seen, what he had done to Richie, but all she could say was, “My phone. I can’t dial. Can you-” she gulped down the knot that had formed in her throat. “Can you call Eddie for me?”

The girl still looked worried, but she smiled slightly when she heard Eddie’s name. “Richie’s boyfriend? Sure.”

After she had found Eddie in Beverly’s recent call list, she handed Bev back the phone.

Beverly held the phone to her ear, still shaking and now breathing fast, a million things rushing into her mind.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked once more.

Her eyes shot to the girl and she knew she meant well. But Richie…

“I don’t know,” she said.

-

In another part of town, just on the outskirts of Derry, Eddie Kaspbrak was humming a tune to himself. The sun was just beginning to set on the horizon, casting long shadows surrounded by deep, orange light. Eddie was finishing up a chore Mike’s grandfather had given him, one he had been more than happy to work on.

“Eddie,” Mikes grandfather had called out nearly three hours ago. “Mind helping me pick some of them apples in the orchard?”

Eddie’s head had immediately popped out from the doorway, coming face to face with the sometimes stern, but more often kindly man who allowed him and his boyfriend residence on his farm. He was standing straight and tall, arms crossed, and a look that showed neither joy nor displeasure. Dressed in deep brown overalls and a white undershirt, he had placed five or so baskets next to the entryway that lead towards the stables and further on, the orchard. Eddie, he had discovered just about a year ago, loved to pick apples. He was especially skilled in picking the sweetest ones, unlike Richie, who oftentimes picked the bad ones simply to “get them out of the way, Eds”!

Eddie had let a small smile form on his face before answering with a nod and a “Yes, sir!”.

So now Eddie was carrying the final basket, filled to the brim with red and yellow apples to the storage barn just behind the main house. A small breeze blew through the farm, eliciting a pause from Eddie so he could let himself feel the wind on his skin and a thought drifted in his mind.

Richie will be home soon.

His chest felt full at the thought and it bubbled up to his face, forming a wide grin there and dusting his freckled cheeks in pink. Their one year anniversary was fast approaching and Eddie was determined to make it special. How, he was not yet sure. But he still had time and the possibilities filled his mind wherever he went, whenever he looked at Richie, or when he laid down to sleep next to him in their bed.

He pushed himself forward, moving a little faster this time. Once he reached the barn, he gingerly placed the sweet fruit in their proper place. Eddie was careful to not trip over the upturned floorboard, rolling his eyes at the memory of Richie falling flat on the newly delivered carrots he had been toting. Memories of Richie were constantly floating in Eddie’s world, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He turned to leave, but stopped short before reaching back into the basket. He pulled two apples, their skin a pretty mixture of reds and yellows, and he made his way back outside.

The sky was darker now. The sun had fallen just beyond the horizon and only a light shade of purple still lingered there. Eddie was always amazed when he watched the day shift into night. He especially loved it when the stars became visible in the vast darkness after the sun had disappeared completely. That sky was the most beautiful to Eddie.

He saw Mike’s grandfather wave from the porch of the main house and he returned the gesture in kind, noticing the small curve of the old man’s smile. He felt a warm feeling grow in his chest, a fondness that had begun with Mike but had grown to encompass his entire family; Grandfather, farm animals, and all. Who else would have taken in two teenage runaways?

The warmth dissipated slowly across his chest as he made his way back towards the guest house, the crunch of grass sounding underfoot. He twisted the top of his wrist upward, glancing at his watch.

Richie will be home soon.

Eddie rushed up the steps and inside, carefully taking his shoes off at the door; he’d need to clean them later. He eyed his phone which had been left on the small coffee table near the couch, but decided to leave it. Right now he wanted to shower and change. Smelling like an apple orchard, dirt, and sweat may not have bothered Richie, but Eddie wouldn’t last long.

He walked into the bathroom and drew his shirt over his head, folding it neatly before he dropped it into the hamper. His fingers moved to unbutton his jeans and his fingers curled around the zipper when he heard the faint sound of his phone ringing. He paused, his anxiety and worry pulling him towards the phone. Would he give in this time?

-

Bill and Ben were making their way to the Aladdin, watching as the city around them darkened with each passing minute. They were on their way to pick up Beverly from Richie’s hold. He had asked her to meet with him in the middle of a school project and his time was up. Bill had thought nothing of Richie’s last minute request, but Ben swore he could hear something different in the way Richie had asked, “Bev, I just need to talk to you for like, ten minutes. Fifteen tops!” It hadn’t made Ben worried, just suspicious. Which is why they were now pedaling on their bikes to the Aladdin to pick up Beverly.

“W-want to stop and p-p-pick up some snacks on the way b-back?”

Ben nodded, not really listening. “Sure, Bill, sounds great.”

They biked the rest of the way in relative silence, Bill mentioning one or two things about the project. He wasn’t sure what had made Ben so worried, but now he could feel a small weight forming low in his stomach. Something about the way Ben had looked watching Beverly walk out the door and the way he looked now, eyes set forward and his arms strangely rigid. But maybe he had read Ben all wrong. Richie oftentimes “needed” Beverly. Mostly to talk of Eddie, sometimes for reassurance, and occasionally to calm himself down when he’d dream of his father.

“Uh, Bill?”

He snapped his head to look at Ben, his brows furrowed. “Sorry, I got lost for a m-minute-”

“Your phone…”

“Oh, sh-shit, I didn’t even hear it,” he said, reaching a hand back to fumble into his pocket. His bike swayed slightly as he pulled out the phone, glancing at the screen as he tried to steady himself.

“It’s Mike,” he said to Ben. He swiped a finger across the screen, answering on the last ring and putting his friend on speaker.

“M-Mike, what’s up?”

The voice on the other end gave him the same feeling Ben had earlier. “Hey, Bill, have you seen Stan?”

Bill followed Ben as he rounded the corner, the Aladdin coming into view. “He isn’t w-w-with you?”

Ben was focusing on something ahead, but Bill didn’t notice. “No, he was supposed to be here ten minutes ago to work on our project. But he’s-”

“Never late,” Bill finished.

A short silence fell over the call, both boys trying hard not to jump to any conclusions. In the years Bill had known Stanley, there had never been a time when he had been late for anything. Mike had learned that shortly after that terrible summer. Stan had been the first to arrive on Mike’s farm the very first time he had invited the Losers over. That’s when Mike knew, without a shred of doubt, that Stan was actually a lot softer than he appeared. One look at the tiny, chirping chicks had softened him enough so Mike was able to see his warm, gooey center.

But Mike also knew that Stan was able to take care of himself and he shouldn’t be this worried. He shouldn’t have worried Bill.

But Bill was worried. And then he saw Ben speed up and he felt himself suddenly worry more. And when he saw two body’s standing outside of the Aladdin that looked like Beverly and Stan, he felt the rock in his stomach grow heavier. He knew it was Stan before he was sure it was Beverly. He could pick Stan out by the curves of his face and the soft, blonde locks that hung slightly into his eyes.

“Mike, I th-think I found Stan. H-hold on.”

He heard a loud “what?” as he gripped the handle bar over his phone and pedaled faster, catching up to Ben and coming to a skidded halt. Beverly was shaking in Stan’s arms.

“Beverly,” Ben breathed, dropping his bike and reaching out for her. She looked at Ben and her face fell, arms open and waiting. He enveloped her as she began to cry, fisting her hands into the back of his sweater.

Stan turned to Bill, taking his hand into his. Bill felt the full force of the weight in his gut, his insides turning as he saw the look on Stan’s face. A mixture of sadness, concern, but mostly anger. Bill reached his free hand up to Stan’s shoulder, looking into the Aladdin for the other Loser he knew should be there too.

Stan shook his head, bringing Bill’s gaze back to him.

“It’s Richie,” he said.

-

Mike looked out the living room window, searching for Stan up the winding dirt road. He was two minutes late to work on their project, which was so completely unlike Stan. Mike checked his phone again, hoping for a text, a call, anything. He felt his shoulders stiffen when there was nothing on his screen. Should he go ask Eddie? He turned to look in the direction of the guest house, wondering if it was a good idea or not to tell the Losers’ resident worrier that Stanley Uris was late.

“Ten minutes,” he said out loud to himself. “I’ll give him ten minutes.”

Mike busied himself by removing his grandfather’s books and leftover coffee mug from the table, making room for the science books and laptops they’d need. He grabbed two coasters and placed them on either side of the one thing he left on the table; a photo of all the Losers. His grandfather had given it to him as a Christmas gift, placed inside of a red and gold picture frame. It had been one of the most meaningful gifts Mike had ever received. What made it even more special, coming from his grandfather, was what he had said afterward. “I know it’s been hard for you, being homeschooled. And maybe,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe I was a little hard on you, maybe I asked too much of you sometimes here on the farm.”

Mike had reached out a hand, gently folding his fingers just above his grandfather’s elbow. He looked up to him warmly, mimicking his grandson. “But those friends of yours. They’re good kids, Mike. I see how much they care about you. And if you’ve got them and they’ve got you, then I don’t see why you can’t go with them to school.”

Mike’s eyes had widened then and he looked over his grandfather’s face, knowing deep down that he wouldn’t lie, but expecting this to be some sort of dream. But he hadn’t been lying and Mike had started at school with all of the Losers the first day after winter break.

He was smiling at the memory, but he caught sight of his phone and it soon fell.

He leaned back into the couch, his hands curling around his phone as he dropped them into his lap. Stan was fine, he told himself. He was overreacting. Maybe he saw a bird, an incredibly beautiful bird that Stan just had to stop and see. Mike let out a heavy sigh and let his head rest on the back of the couch, closing his eyes and repeating to himself “you’re overreacting, you’re overreacting.” He could hear a clock ticking from another room and began to count each tick-tock. He lost count once, twice, three times before he finally made it to sixty.

But then his phone vibrated in his palm and the force with which he sat upright made him dizzy. But it wasn’t Stan. It was Nicole.

He smiled fondly at the screen, but the nervousness he felt buzzing through his body did not subside. Especially now that he saw it was exactly nine minutes past Stan’s arrival.

He opened his phone and dialed for Bill.

-

He felt the wind blow through his hair as he stood up on his bike, pedaling faster to gain momentum up the hill. He was exactly fifteen minutes from Mike’s farm, which was, according to Stan, nearly ten minutes and some change away from the exact spot he was on now. He’d be passing the Aladdin soon and wondered if he should stop in to say hi to Richie.

Stan wouldn’t say it, but Richie was his best friend. Richie was loud and obnoxious and so incredibly loyal it sometimes made Stan’s head spin. He knew without a doubt that all of the Losers cared about him, but Richie could make Stan laugh when he didn’t want to, even in the moments when Stan was sure he’d never smile again. He’d been the only one at his Bar Mitzvah that summer he tried to forget. The small scars on the sides of his face started to burn at the thought and he could feel his chest tighten.

“Bill,” he said to himself, conjuring the sweetest memories of the boy he called his own. When he remembered that summer, when he would look at himself in the mirror, running a hand across the indents on his face that he tried to convince himself did not look like teeth marks, he thought of Bill. And then his world seemed much smaller, more manageable, livable.

As his heart soared just above his head, the Aladdin came into view. It wasn’t crowded just yet, only three or four small families were loitering outside trying to make up their minds. Stan stepped off a pedal and swung his other leg around, walking his bike up to the door. He kicked out the stand and parked it gently out of the way, beside the entrance. He’d be in and out, there was no need to lock it up. He entered the building swiftly and looked towards the concession stand. No Richie.

He moved farther in, nodding slightly at the employees he had met before. They all knew he was there for Richie, no one tried to stop him as he turned the corner towards the different screening rooms. There weren’t that many, but Stan didn’t have much time. He brushed a hand through his blonde curls and thought about turning back. If there was one thing Stan wasn’t, it was late.

Except once. Five years ago. Stanley Uris had been late to his own birthday party because Richie Tozier had shown up with a purple and yellow bruise on his wrist that he was desperately trying to hide but couldn’t because his shirt was far too small for his arms. Stanley had taken one look at him, seen the panic behind his smile and the way he was holding his wrist, trying to hide the fingerprint bruise, and he’d whisked Richie upstairs without a word. He gave Richie a shirt that had belonged to his father, the sleeves reaching his knuckles, and he’d wrapped his wrist with a bandage. Neither one had said much, but when Bill and Eddie had come up to see why Stan wasn’t enjoying his own birthday he simply said, “none of your business” and he pulled Richie back downstairs.

Stan was about to turn around and give up his last minute search when he heard a voice that sounded familiar. “Eddie, pick up your phone!”

Beverly?

-

Richie was terrified. He wished he could be furious or angry but the last blow he’d received had shut him up. He could still feel his head pounding as his father murmured terrible things beside him.

He had been so careful before. He had always watched the doorways, scanned the crowds, and kept his guard perpetually up.

But today…

He felt the small box in his pocket and he shifted slightly in his seat to keep it hidden. His dad was angry enough, if he saw this Richie wasn’t sure he’d make it out of this alive.

When he had called for Beverly earlier today, he had been so incredibly happy. He had felt like he was walking on air and he hated that fucking euphimism but fuck if it wasn’t true. His gift for Eddie had come in. The gift for their one year anniversary. And it was so beautiful and so incredibly Eddie it had filled his heart near to bursting. It was a promise ring. Simple in its design, it was a thin, silver band with two words inscribed on the inside.

He had rushed to pick it up on his break from work and he didn’t have time to go see Beverly and ask her if it was too much or if he was crazy or if Eddie would get upset at how expensive it was. So he had called Beverly as he was walking into the Aladdin, palming the gift in his pocket. He asked for ten, fifteen minutes tops and Beverly had agreed without much of a fight, despite the two voices behind her groaning about the science project he would eventually have to do too.

He had kept busy waiting for her, walking through each empty theatre and sweeping up the spilled popcorn and discarded candy wrappers. He even dusted the handrails and armrests on each seat, feeling the small box burning a hole into his pocket with every step. How would he keep this a secret for a few more weeks? How would he keep it from Eddie when he would know it was in the same room? How would he-

“Jeeze, Richie, could you have made it any harder to find you?”

Richie spun around and saw Beverly, hands on her hips, and a smirk on her face. He smiled wide then and ran to her, picking her up in his arms and spinning her around.

“Richie!” She cried out. But she was laughing and she was hugging him back. When he had finally set her down, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out from the dark theatre.

“Okay, I was intrigued before, but now I’m dying to know. What the hell is going on?”

Richie was pulling her towards the back of the building, to the last theatre before you hit the side exit. He wanted privacy to show Beverly the gift, but he also needed light. He needed her to see it in all its glory. When they finally arrived to the halls end, under the fluorescent light and just inside of the exit doors, he reached into his pocket.

“I finally got Eddie’s anniversary gift. I needed to show someone because as much as I love it i’m also terrified?”

Beverly was biting back a smile. She wanted to see his gift more than anything, especially because Richie had trusted her enough to show it to her. “Well, let’s see it,” she pushed.

“Okay, but first I gotta explain it because knowing you, you’ll scream and cause a scene.” He smiled, but they both knew it was probably true. He opened his mouth to tell her not to be surprised, that the box meant something important, not that sort of important, but a promise that someday it would. Instead, his eyes focused on a body that was coming up fast from behind Beverly. He recognized him immediately and stepped in front of Beverly like a reflex, his hand flying from inside of his pocket and the color draining from his face.

Wentworth’s entire body was flushed, anger seeping out of every pore and he was coming up to them faster than Richie thought possible. He felt Beverly fist her hand in his shirt, pulling him back towards the exit to escape. “Richie,” she whispered, fear laced in her voice as she pulled harder, more insistent.

But Richie’s mind was racing so fast his legs weren’t moving. He was screaming to himself to either run or fight, put his hands up or grab Beverly and run but he couldn’t budge under the gaze of his father.

“Richie!”

But then Richie felt a force on the side of his face and he was falling towards the wall. He hit it, hard, and he fell into a crumpled mess on the floor.

Beverly, he thought. Beverly! But his world was spinning and he felt himself being pulled upwards. It was hard to breathe, but he could hear his father’s voice with absolute clarity.

“This. Ends. Now. You’re coming home, Richard.”

His head was pounding and his cheek was burning, but things were coming into focus. He made out his father and his hand curled around the fabric of his collar and he saw, with horror, Bev just beyond him looking like she was going to fight.

He wanted to fight too, but he wouldn’t risk her safety. He could get away from Wentworth later, he needed Beverly to be safe.

So he shook his head and choked out “Don’t, Bev!” just as Wentworth started pulling him towards the exit.

The older man swiveled to face Beverly, one hand on the door and the other in a vice grip close to Richie’s neck.

Beverly was horrified when she saw her father in his eyes and suddenly her entire body grew cold.

“Tell your fucking friends to stay the hell away from my son. Especially that piece of shit who corrupted him into thinking he’s-”

He closed his eyes, attempting to calm himself, but Beverly heard his hand tighten around Richie’s collar.

“Stay the fuck away from him!” And then he pushed through the doors, pulling Richie in his wake. She needed to go after them, she needed to fight for Richie! But she knew she couldn’t do it alone.

We’ll come for you, Richie she thought. I promise we will come for you.

Richie hadn’t heard Beverly’s silent promise, but he knew. The ring hidden in his pocket was also a silent promise. A promise he was making to Eddie. And one way or another, he’d keep that promise. He’d find his way out of this, away from his father, and back to Eddie.


End file.
